


Cut out to serve

by MrsRoseraie



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in Two Holes, Gangbang, Group Sex, Multi, One Shot, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28414086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRoseraie/pseuds/MrsRoseraie
Summary: Geralt likes being called 'a good boy' but he doesn't want to admit it. Emhyr has a plan to change his mind.
Relationships: Emhyr var Emreis/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Cut out to serve

**Author's Note:**

> I just love sub!Geralt so much and the idea of him being called 'a good boy' and the idea just popped into my head and well... this happened.

The road to Loc Grimm was long and tiresome. Although the evening was approaching, Geralt's shirt was sticking to his back in the summer heat. The carriage, although spacious and lined with soft, decorative pillows, was not able to compensate for the lack of refreshing blows of wind, which would at least slightly soothe the heat.

When they set off, he tried to maintain a conversation with Emhyr, but he was clearly not in the mood to talk, so the witcher spent the rest of the way leaning his head on his arm and watching the landscape of meadows and hills moving outside the window. Sometimes he was stealing a glance at the emperor, who was sitting opposite him, trying to cool down with a paper fan. Geralt sighed, tired of being trapped in a stuffy carriage most of the day. His knees started to hurt.

A sudden pull of the carriage took Geralt out of his mind. Emhyr, knowing that they had reached their destination, folded the fan and pulled the curtain away from the carriage window to look outside. They stopped in front of the wooden gate, waiting for the stangret to finish his conversation with the guard. 

\- I don't know what you're playing at, but I know that the bizarre Nilfgaard practices aren't in my taste - Geralt said quietly - whatever is waiting for me behind that gate is not my fairy tale. Know that I will leave whenever I feel like it.

\- You don't respect other’s culture. - Emhyr smacked with disapproval. - The fact that the Northern Kingdoms do not understand and accept our practices is not new to me. But I have always thought that you are open to new experiences.

\- Not with you.

A nasty smile came out on Emhyr's face. Geralt thought that the emperor's smile was even more nasty than his own. 

Imperial, summer residence was located in the south of Nilfgaard, in the Alba River valley. Although Emhyr spent here only a few months a year, it was no less impressive than the one in the capital.

Shooting roofs were shining bloodily from afar in the glow of the setting sun. The palace did not resemble any that Geralt had seen in the north of the continent. The huge residence was surrounded from the outside by a high, white wall, from above which only roof domes and rows of columns protruded.

The palace garden was in full bloom, enchanting with its carefully cared for greenery. Geralt's nostrils were filled with intense scents of jasmine and orange blossoms, which were covering countless trees. Here and there, were white sheets of water lilies, floating lazily in the stone fountains, hidden under the oleander bushes. The white gravel splashed under the wheels of a carriage, which barely fit underneath the twisted grenade trees growing on both sides of the path.

\- Before leaving, put on a hood. I do not want anyone to pay attention to us.

Geralt did not ask why. He could guess well. He didn't know then how far he was from the truth.

Slowly they entered a spacious, round vestibule, which was overwhelmed by a high, domed vault. The ceiling was so high that it wasn't reached by scarce light, candelabra here and there, but the witch's eye could easily see hundreds of geometric patterns, leaves and flowers interspersed with each other. The execution was extremely intricate and Geralt thought that magic was certainly used to paint them.

A man in a black doublet decorated with a white orifice was waiting at the wrought-iron entrance gates. The mask of the raccoon hid his face from the inquisitive eyes of the visitors. Emhyr slowly approached the wide bench, behind which he stood, and Geralt followed him.

Along the way, Geralt noticed several women and men, judging by the clothes, nobility and high-ranking merchants, standing and talking in niches between the columns and the servants in black uniforms accompanying them. All the participants remembered to hide their faces behind animal masks, scarves or hats. The witcher felt the gaze of the eyes, and a few times he felt the tiny stings of a probing spell. He had to use all his willpower to fight them off.

They waited in line for a few minutes and Geralt could not suppress his desire to bomb Emhyr with questions. Was he supposed to be a guest of the emperor of Nilfgaard? Why couldn't Emhyr inform him about this earlier? And why did all these people want to remain anonymous? Was there a Nilfgaard holiday that he had no idea about, or did Emhyr organize a costume party?

\- Is it always as gloomy here as at a funeral? - The witch tried to relax the tense atmosphere.

\- You show no respect - said Emhyr.

Then he took a hawk mask from the raccoon man and put it on his face.

\- When we cross that curtain, you are not to speak a word and do everything I tell you to do, either myself or other guests. Let's go - Emhyr threw and, without waiting for an answer, immediately took a dignified step towards the heavy purple curtain separating the vestibule from the rest of the rooms.

Geralt followed him without a word, seeing no sense in resisting. On his way, he looked for paintings and reliefs decorating the foyer. Most of them depicted dancing and feasting people, but he also noticed a few of them, on which figures were tangled in love embraces.

They walked along a piece of poorly lit corridor until they stopped in front of a closed door.

\- Take off your clothes and wash yourself. Leave the medallion too. - Emhyr pointed the door with his hand. - I would also advise you to shave. I would not want you to leave traces on my guests. I will wait here, just hurry up.

The witcher disappeared in the room, enjoying the moment of retreat. Small, but tastefully decorated with fine mosaics, the room was adjacent to a large bathhouse. In a huge stone bath, carved straight into the floor, stood like an serene surface of turquoise water.

He sat on a bench standing in the middle to take off his shoes, pants, shirt and cloak, whose hood has so far protected him from the eyes of others. He especially did not rush to undress, enjoying a short moment of solitude. Finally, he put his clothes on the edge of the furniture, together with the witcher's medallion. He knew that Emhyr especially wanted no medallion because of his magician friends. If Geralt had worn it, the medallion would have been thrown on his chest like crazy, from the excess of magic concentrated in the air.

Then he entered the bathhouse, surprised to discover that here the cold stone floor radiated a pleasant warmth. Considering the heat outside, this could be considered an inconvenience, but inside the stone walls, there were much coolers, and Geralt stood between them completely naked. He was relieved to dip his neck in lukewarm water, smelling of exotic oils. He felt as if his muscles, which had been tight until then, began to relax. He was sitting there for a while, trying to relax and cut himself off from the crowd of thoughts.

He used the silence to try to sort out his emotions. He was not completely frightened - he was not helpless, and in a situation of life or death he could fight and triumph. He was neither held captive nor physically restrained. But somewhere deep inside, he felt the pleasant thrill of something unknown, a lack of control and knowledge of what would happen.

When he came to the conclusion that enough time had passed for Emhyr to start annoying at his prolonged absence, he returned to the other room. He approached a ceramic bowl standing on a small, carved cupboard with a razor and a bar of grey soap on its edge. He soaped his face and quickly managed to shave his beard for several days, which brought him an unspeakable relief.

When he wiped his face with a piece of cloth, he heard the squeaking of the hinges behind his back.

\- Hurry up - Emhyr urged - and put this on.

Geralt noticed that in his hand he was holding a black cloth glistening faintly in the light of candles.

The witcher couldn't stop the crooked smile, which he was trying to quickly hide behind a piece of cloth.

\- You can't be serious, can you?

The emperor's narrow mouth twisted in a nasty grimace under a hawk mask.

\- Yes, I'm serious - Emhyr was straining his words, approaching him slowly. - When I put this on you, you may feel like resisting.

He freed his right hand from the black fabric wraps, showing the so far hidden leather collar and leash.

Geralt remained silent.

It was one of the unexpected situations, about which consciousness spread rapidly in the guts like a hit of a powerful kick.

The moment the witcher opened his mouth, he felt s tongue between his lips. The tongue of Emhyr var Emreis, claiming the right to his mouth and throat. He instinctively leaned towards the kiss, hungry, unable and unwilling to hide the excitement growing inside him. The kiss was a pleasant surprise, which in fact was only meant to distract him from the skin, which clung closely to his neck. Emhyr made sure it was fastened well enough by moving the clasp one hole apart. Now Geralt clearly felt the edge of the collar stuck in the delicate skin on his neck. Not so hard that he couldn't catch his breath, but clear enough that he didn't forget it was there.

Emhyr took Geralt's face in both hands and the witcher thought with surprise that they were much more delicate than he expected and their touch was not at all unpleasant.

\- From now on we'll play the game - he said, moving close to his face and the witcher felt like a hug on his neck became stronger when he swallowed his saliva.

Then he felt a pleasantly smooth touch, the silk material flowing down on his shoulders. Emhyr tied up mantle, long to the ground, which made Geralt feel a little better than if he were to leave here completely naked.

They headed deep into a long corridor, stopping only in front of the great arras, hanging at the end. Geralt felt the cold coming from the walls, because he was only covered with a light, black mantle, tied at the waist. Apart from the bare stone walls and the candelabra placed here and there, there was nothing in the corridor, no doors leading to other rooms. It seemed that the place to which they were heading was to remain hidden from unwanted eyes.

As Geralt had expected, Emhyr removed the tapestry depicting a woman half lying on a chaise longue and eating a bunch of grapes to expose the wooden door hidden behind it. The witcher's sensitive ear was picking up muffled conversations from behind them, interrupted by loud laughter. The emperor knocked on them three times, leaving a gap of two heartbeats between each knock.

They waited for a moment until the sliding sliders closed, until finally the old hinges were squeaked and the hidden door stood open before them.

From the doorstep they were struck by the intense smell of incense, floral perfume and opium. Although the light was faint, Geralt clearly saw how big the room was, filled with dozens of men and women of different races, but the vast majority were people. However, he sensed strong magical vibrations in the air, because every move had to repel the intrusive magical signals, trying to probe his thoughts. All those gathered certainly could not complain about the lack of gold, judging by their refined, multicolored attires so different from the ever-present Nilfgaardian black.

\- Eyes down.

Geralt felt a hot breath on his cheek and a warning pull of the leash.

He obediently, though reluctantly, he stuck his gaze into his bare feet, covered with black material. White hair fell on his face, released from the leather band. He did not see what was going on around him, but all he could do was heard whispers from everywhere and occasional sighs. Emhyr led him to a window bay, full of embroidered pillows, located on the side of the room. During the short journey, he felt the fleeting touch of many hands and the burning gaze of tens of pairs of eyes. Some smoothed his white hair and others tried to slip the material off his shoulders at all costs.

Geralt barely stopped himself from giving somebody a fat lip, which was effectively helped by a black leather leash and the emperor's silent silhouette at the end.

Emhyr sat down on the chair incrusted, with a lordly gesture of his hand commanding everyone to keep an appropriate distance and demonstratively ordering the witcher to sit at his feet.

 _Like a dog_ , thought Geralt, clanching his teeth.

When rabble surrounding them parted, Geralt was able to see at least a part of the room he was in. There was no shortage of comfortable rest niches where guests could lie down on pillows with wine cups or enjoy each other on a velvet chaise longues. The windows were covered and the decor was kept in line with the rest of the palace, luxurious and tasteful - with additional expositions of tools and toys, arranged like weapon racks, parts of which he could not even fathom what they were used for. Geralt got dizzy and for the first time at night fear took over his curiosity and made him run away. He did not know these people at all, and Emhyr was supposed to let them use him for their own purposes-he had no idea what exactly the "terms of engagement" he signed with the emperor, consisted of.

\- Not so fast, there is enough for everyone.

At the sound of emperor's voice, everyone was quiet as if under a spell. Now a few men and women were staring at Geralt with their fissteh-shining eyes, looking from under animal masks and chiffon scarves. The witcher felt like in one of the hallucinatory dreams after drinking the White Gull. He did not even notice how a man dressed as a chamberlain came up to Emhyr, wearing an owl-shaped mask.

\- Mererid, take care of it. - Emhyr unfastened the end of the leash and so their physical connection was simply broken.

Then he got up and, squeezing himself through the gathered crowd, went to the table with punch, as if he didn't care anymore.

Geralt followed him with his eyes, with all his will, trying to focus his attention on him. He was sitting like paralyzed when the man came up to slide the mantle off his shoulders.

\- Ladies and gentlemen - the chamberlain shouted, drawing tens of heads' attention to himself. - I welcome you warmly, this beautiful evening. Every year we gather here to feast and make amends, celebrating the day of the summer equinox. However, today is a special day, because today we have an equally special witcher.

At the sound of these words the crowd waved, excited.

Geralt's thoughts went crazy when the reality of the current situation reminded him in a moving way. Position on his knees, from where each present seemed to be half the height of him, eyes lowered, ready to serve. Subconsciously determined not to let him down, no matter what task was put to him.

\- Without further ado, I propose to begin - the owl raised his hand over his head, commanding silence. - The initial offer will be one hundred and fifty Nilfgaardian florins.

The witcher drew in air with a loud swish. For a moment he lifted his eyesight, which until now had been piercing into his joined thighs on an oriental carpet to see women and men whispering among themselves in animal masks, who started nervously spinning wine in their cups and searching their pockets for purses with gold.

Geralt felt naked, not only in the literal sense of the word, when eyes drilled him through, slipping over his white hair, numerous scars disfiguring his pale body and penetrating material covering his thighs.

One hundred and fifty Nilfgaardian florins? No wonder that guests visiting the estate of emperor Emhyr var Emreis himself had money to lose. Hands were raised. Before Geralt was able to fully process the whole thing, the auctioneer started chanting quickly, hypnotizing the audience to give more, more and more.

\- One hundred and sixty, one hundred and seventy, who will give one hundred and seventy? One hundred and seventy for Fox, now one hundred and eighty, one hundred and eighty for the Weasel...

Words were blending together and Geralt was hardly following them. The offer grew steadily, then two hundred and then three hundred, until one of the potential buyers sitting in the back, got impatient and stood up violently, shouting: "Three hundred!".

Some people gasped loudly and turned to a guy in a raven mask who offered five hundred Nilfgaardian florins.

Geralt's head was again buzzing. This was the equivalent of killing two manticores, and someone was just about ready to spend the amount so that they could have it for an hour on an exclusive basis.

The auctioneer yelled.

\- We have three hundred florins from Raven - he said proudly. - Three hundred for the first time, for the second time and... sold! Thank you ladies and gentlemen, for participating in the auction. I ask the gentleman in the raven's mask to follow me to complete the transaction.

Geralt was grateful to his fate for sitting down, because otherwise he would have been wobbly. He was combing through the crowd in search of Emhyr, sitting alone on a shilling and lazyly mixing the beverage in his cup. For a short while their eyes met until Geralt was again tied on a leash and pulled up.

*

He obediently followed the Raven, holding the end of the leash, to a small room adjacent to the main room, separated from it only by a brocade curtain. Along the way they managed to pass other embroidered curtains, from behind which there were moans of varying intensity and sometimes also the smacking sounds of body hitting the body. Geralt was very unhappy about the fact that they would be accompanied by three of Raven’s friends, and he was probably even more unhappy that he could not protest in any way. Two buirdly men and a woman with an hourglass figure, whom he called Sparrowhawk, Falcon and Kestrel, from the corresponding masks on their faces.

It turned out that Mr. Raven was a high-ranking trader in fabrics, which he supplied to the Continent from the Far East. His company had the biggest monopoly on silk in Nilfgaard and Northern Kingdoms, which matched the smooth voice and shiny black hair of the Raven. With a mask overshadowing his face, he could have been taken for a young Emhyr, because the movements of his slim figure were beating the same dignified confidence.

\- Forgive my indiscretion, but was it Hawk who did this to you? I mean those terrible scars on your body.

The question got Geralt off the hook because he did not expect to ever meet someone who apparently had no idea about the existence of the witchers. Yes, the Nilfgaard lay a little further south than other kingdoms, but the witchers from the School of the Viper or the Cat should be here. In fact, he did not know much about the habits of witches from other schools, but he did not think that they were completely cut off from the world.

\- You're stupid - said Kestrel - he is the witcher, a monster killer. These are the scars left after the fights with the terrifying monsters.

\- He may be able to fight - interfered Sparrowhawk - but can he do anything with these lips?

This caused an loud outburst of laughter, in which the mentioned did not participate.

\- It is said that witchers are subject to genetic mutations - murmured Kestrel, pulling on the ribbon holding the mantle at the waist. - I wonder if they also affect what they have down there.

Raven pulled Geralt away from her with a jerk of the leash and seated him on a comfortable chaise longue.

\- Stop it, you're making him blush - said Falcon, taking Geralt's chin with two fingers and pulled his head up. - Honestly, I expected you to be much more hideous.

\- Look at these scars, the poor guy. None of the submissive ones I know are so mutilated.

Raven sat comfortably behind Geralt, and leather padded shackles, suddenly appeared in his hands. He used them to efficiently immobilize Geralt's wrists on his back.

\- How did you like the auction? - He heard the soft voice of Raven right next to his ear, and hot breath ticked him in the neck. - In fact, the gold disappears into the void. The empire does not need to generate income with such practices, it is only entertainment for guests. It whets the appetite before the main course.

Geralt spat through clenched teeth, but the his body betrayed hidden satisfaction.

\- Oh, he's wiggling his tail - giggled Kestrel, taking his hardened cock into her hand. - You like this boy, don't you?

At the sound of her words, Geralt's cock twitched even stronger.

_By the plague._

\- Come on, open your mouth - Sparrowhawk urged, keeping his cock together with Falcon, just in front of the witcher's face.

In the masks they looked like two birds of prey, which were about to share the captured prey. They showed them at the same time and without warning, when Geralt unintentionally opened his mouth under the influence of a sigh, caused by warm lips, embracing his own cock.

At first he focused only on trying to catch his breath, but after a while he relaxed enough to be able to keep heads in his mouth as comfortable as possible. He felt the intense taste of fisstech when he drove his tongue under the foreskin. He closed his eyes and started licking up and down hardened penises alternately, which soon became hard and dripping with saliva and precum.

\- Oh yeah, this bitch knows what he's doing - said the pleased Falcon. - I need to see if you're taking to your throat.

He shoved his friend aside and put his hands on Geralt's head, pressing it against his crotch. Geralt sharply drew air in his nose, choking when a cock hard as granite stuck in his mouth and further down his throat. Once he got used to his average size, he pushed himself by dipping his nose deep into dark hair, taking it as deep and as long as he could. He surprised himself at the ease with which it came to him.

\- You like to suck, am I right? - whispered Raven, who was still sticking his whole body to witcher's back.

Geralt felt his slim hand slipping down his back and his finger started to make its way between his buttocks.

It did not last long before Falcon's hips trembled when he came into his mouth and Geralt swallowed everything enthusiastically, satisfied with his efforts. Seeing this, Sparrowhawk immediately replaced him with his larger but equally hard cock. Geralt, already knowing what to do, sucked with growing dedication. He himself was getting wetter and wetter, he felt hand of Kestrel spreading slippery dampness all over his hard penis, which was already starting to ache from the accumulated arousal.

\- I knew that witchers had great stamina, but I didn't think even two dicks would be enough to bring him to orgasm.

\- Relax, it will change faster than you think - said Raven, slipping his second finger right next to the first one, causing a shiver to run along Geralt's spine.

Geralt began to feel a pleasant tingling sensation at the bottom of his abdomen, sneaking through his whole body, straight to his head, filling it and creating his private, weightless space.

\- Just a good boy, he doesn't want to make us feel bad, so he lets us play with him for as long as possible, right?

Sparrowhawk, whom he was sucking up till now, surprised him, coming suddenly on his face. It didn't last long when the witcher did the same, releasing the tension built up from the beginning of the evening in spasmatic convulsions. For a while he tried to catch his breath, with his head resting on the shoulder of Raven, breathing in his musk-spicy scent.

\- Damn, I thought we would have some more fun.

\- It hadn't been an hour yet - Raven noticed consciously. - We still have some time to finish the play.

Geralt's head was buzzing and he had a big problem with collecting thoughts. On the one hand, he was overwhelmed by a suffocating sense of injustice, but on the other, he was so full and satisfied with every hole he had stuffed and used thoroughly. It was extremely rare for witchers to be desired, and he now had three people at his feet, whose closest goal was to satisfy him as well as possible, with the pleasure of being satisfied by him. He would simply lie if he said he felt bad. He felt good about giving himself to others and seeing how his efforts were sincerely rewarding. He was also satisfied with the fact that he was becoming an object of desire. At least he hoped it was so.

\- You sucked them so well that you deserved a reward - murmured Raven, kissing him possessively.

His tongue tasted like spicy wine. He unbuttoned his pants with one hand and slid the other under Geralt's thighs, lifting him up enough to put him on his lap. Without warning, he guided his cock between his buttocks and slammed it brutally all over the entire length. The witcher moaned lingeringly.

\- I paid quite a small sum for you and I can see that it paid off fortunately. However, the time has not yet passed and I have not used you all - saying this, Raven pulled him to himself by the collar. - I have to admit that you have quite a nice tight hole. It swallows my dick perfectly.

He hastened the movements a little bit so that Geralt had to spread his legs and force the body to bend a little bit in order to enjoy the act. Raven's cock was thicker and much bigger, so it was still painful to take it, despite earlier preparation.

\- This is probably your first time when someone takes you from behind, huh?

Geralt didn't have a chance to answer because his mouth was clogged again by one of the men wearing bird masks. He hadn't yet managed to wipe off the remaining sperm from his lips after the previous round, but the saliva had flown into his mouth when he felt a familiar weight on his tongue. Despite feeling scratching at the back of his throat, he let the hands resting on his head press it rhythmically against the crotch. He had the impression that collar on his neck was tightnening with every movement of his head, making him more and more breathless, but he quickly brushed off the feeling.

\- Oooh, yes, who’s a good boy?

It didn't matter. What mattered was only the distinct throbbing pulse of the dick in his mouth and the murmur of approval somewhere above it. He managed a few strokes before he had to take some air and the next time he choked so hard that he had to slip off the cock he sucked. He did not even know whether he belonged to Sparrowhawk or Falcon, but it did not matter much.  


For the first time that evening, he had the impression that his stomach, filled to the limit, was penetrated from both sides, and there was no room for air inside it. Finally, he started to feel good, after a difficult start - for the first time he had a cock in his ass and mouth, and the last one also wanted to take part in the action, finding somehow a way between his willing lips.  


Their pace became more frantic and it didn't take long before three men pumped their sperm from both sides of the witcher, racing to fill him up. Geralt's orgasm itself was sudden and breathtaking and he wouldn't be able to ask for permission even with his mouth unoccupied. He was happy to let the convulsions take control of his body and the long white streaks covered the entire abdomen and chest without sparing Kestrel’s cleavage, still kneeling in front of him.

\- Your time is over.  


In the corner of his eye he saw a hawkish mask of Emhyr, looming in a dark corner. He could barely see through sperm and sweat flowing down his face.

\- Maybe we can get along somehow. - Geralt heard a male voice coming from somewhere far away. - The submissive one is so eager that...

\- Enough - Emhyr cut him off.

His powerful voice was clearly rising above other sounds, even when he did not pick it up.

\- A deal is a deal, you took advantage of my property, and now get out.

Moments later the three of you disappeared, and Geralt was lying alone among the embroidered pillows, now dirty from the remains of today's act. His mind was still covered in a pleasant veil of numbness.

\- Did you enjoyed yourself today? - said Emhyr, not getting up from a chair encrusted with gold and ivory.

Geralt wanted to get your attention, but he was too tired and his mind was still floating in the blissful zone of unconsciousness.

\- Look at yourself. - The emperor's glacial gaze measured him from head to toe. - Even in such a state, you do not want to admit to yourself that you enjoy giving in to anyone who asks for it. Pathetic.

A red grenade glowed on his toe when he lazyly stirring the liquor in the cup he was holding.

\- Will you fuck me too?

The witcher wasn't expecting much, saying that. To tell the truth, he wanted to see the emperor's reaction more than to fulfill the request. He unintentionally strained his ears while waiting for the answer, not being bold enough to look at Emhyr.

\- For others, what you experienced today would have been too much, but for you - Geralt heard the rustling, and after a while he saw Emhyr's dark shadow over him. - This is still not enough. Fascinating.

Then he grabbed the witcher by the chin and brutally slammed their lips. Geralt could not get rid of the impression that the burning kiss was like a white-hot metal rod with which the cattle were marked.

\- Answering your question - Emhyr broke away from him and moved his mouth to his ear - I don't let myself be satisfied with just asking.

Geralt knew that perfectly well.


End file.
